166: november rain

november. first november morning. a saturday morning. another day. hong kong island is almost invisible to me. the smog just keeps getting lower and lower with each day. we are drowning in white milk. i can’t feel my pulmos anymore. i can’t feel my eyes, they hurt. my ears are in a bad shape too. and i have a leg just like frida kahlo had. does it mean something? if you have any inquiries call the health department, they will gladly help you.

last night was hallowe’en, which would normally mean absolutely nothing to me but since it was friday and since there were people dressed up everywhere around hong kong – central station was crowded with mickey mouses and tigers – i couldn’t help it but buy a pair of plastic lighted up red devil’s horns. just like that to add it to my usual image. otherwise, i wouldn’t probably even realize it’s hallowe’en. where the fuck are all the zombies?!

i tried to watch quantum of solace last night but figured it was impossible. why do they still keep making james band films? somebody kill that motherfucker already. it’s boring. i got out of the cinema fifteen minutes earlier and went straight to a starbucks. i’m almost finished with james frey but have couple of pages left. i wish it would never end.

later at night, i ended up at maria’s. i met some of my friends there, old ones and new ones, saw many crazy costumes and little kids dressed up as spidermans hoping they would the save the world one day. music was loud, people were even louder and the chief was nowhere to be found. at some point i exchanged gin tonics for water and drank just that. they were playing a little better than usually and was hoping i might go for a walk with dracula. but you can’t always get what you want, right, mick?

as always

i’m listening to amos lee’s skipping stone. i like to think that someone else wrote that song as a reflection to having met me. what’s the opposite of being paranoid? is it actually possible to feel the way i feel or is it just a passing by moment? the one that will be gone really soon? i’m not sure. all i know is that there are too many people in my spotlight. way too many.

oh, my cherie amour, pretty little one that i adore
you’re the only girl my heart beats for
how i wish that you were mine

does it make sense? of course it doesn’t. but sometimes i just cannot help it. i let the feeling live inside of me as if it were the only thing that can keep me alive. but the truth is somewhere else. it’s got nothing to do with anything. the only things, which are somehow connected to this feeling are bailey’s cheesecake and a song by stevie wonder. and nothing else.

for you, always.



the color of eyes
when you look at me
i’m weak
i’m small
i can still feel
of my veins

every look
every touch
feels like a stab
of a knife
you lick my
you tear them
with your fake nails
i’m bleeding

but they don’t wear
human jewerly


old shit recently found and edited.
as i said, he triggers my imagination like firework.

we’re not supposed to be lovers

last night. soho. kasbah restaurant. the interior of that place made me feel as i were back in dubai. couscous, hummus and pita bread. a glass of red wine. stories from around the world, stories from a living room, stories from a little village. goats, sheep and cows. comparison of bratislava to dubai in terms of hours needed to get there. incorrect, but still fitting. i was thinking of dubai today more than i have in the last two months and i realized that i could actually live there during the cooler months, why not. and so on.

i saw my favorite greek boy while walking down the stairs. he said hi sara with a strange, focused glow in his eyes. he never says hi. i never see him. he never acknowledges me. i never look at him. changes.

it’s nine o’clock. it’s dark out. as it always is. time is the only constant thing in this world. here it flies by faster than anywhere else. maybe it’s because we’re closer to the sun each morning than the rest of the world. metaphors. one-liners. i’m still reading bright shiny morning. i am taking my time with this book. i want to absorb every single word, remember every expression, every face and its character. i wish to walk down the venice beach and experience the beauty and the pain myself. relative words, relative meanings. my mind went blank. nothing.

the glow of his eyes follows me everywhere.



today at lunch:

what’s your religion?
kurt cobain.

after viewing some of the pages from a new kurt cobain book called cobain unseen my obsession seems to be back. it’s been a long time since i last listened to unplugged in new york, bleach or in utero, my three favorite albums. last year i mentioned cobain in every single of my posts. i’m listening to unplugged right now. beauty of that album just takes my breath away. even now, fourteen years later. it’s hard to explain why i feel about seattle the way i do. music from and around that city changed my life in many ways. it gave me a meaning, a path to follow each day.

nothing matters. when you say it out loud it feels as if it is the biggest lie in the world. the most honest truth. i’m thinking about the day we spent comparing everything to this sentence. terms and words were insignificant as a fly. a friend became just a someone we know; happiness turned out to be coffee; religion was transferred to friday nights. love, in our world, did not exist at all. it is just an expression, it has nothing to do with the real feeling, which unlike the word, does exist. it hides the truth, it makes questions rise above the limited surface. it makes us uncomfortable, it makes us angry, sad and desperate. we are looking for a wrong word. wrong form and shape. it didn’t matter. nothing mattered. not our age, time, places or names. everything was irrelevant. we turned to plato and socrates. why does it matter? because it doesn’t. philosophical questions of a circled answer. what is the difference between everything and nothing? it is the gap between the two that makes a person. all the things that i fail to understand today are becoming clearer and clearer.

there’s a hint of surrealism in my thoughts because they reach out of the limit. they are connected but completely unrelated. just like strangers in a motel on the highway 101.